I have no memory of his face, A bearded man or smooth and bare; I never heard my mother call My father either dark or fair. All I remember is a coat Of velvet, buttoned on his breast; Where I, when tired of fingering it, Would lay my childish head and rest. His voice was low and seldom heard, His body small -- I've heard it said; But his hoarse cough made children think Of monsters growling to be fed. If any children took that road, And heard my father coughing near, They whispered, 'Hist! Away, away -- There's some big giant lives in there!' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SIXTEEN DEAD MEN by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS IAMBICUM TRIMETRUM, FR. LETTER TO HARVEY by EDMUND SPENSER JOHN UNDERHILL by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER KNOW THYSELF by WILLIAM ARBUTHNOT THE COYOTE CHORUS by ANNE BIRDSALL THE HEATHER ON FIRE by MATHILDE BLIND DOMINUS VINAEAE; SPIRITUS AGRICOLA by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH |